Nurse Mary
by dna2000
Summary: Modern M/M. Matthew gets the flu and Mary takes it upon herself to nurse him back to health. Same universe as 'A Conflict of Feelings', alluded to in 'Meeting the Mother'. Also includes Isobel!


_A/N: this is a one-shot in response to a wonderful request to write a fic about Mary caring for Matthew when he has the flu, as alluded to in my other one-shot 'Meeting the Mother'. It's very fluffy!_

…

Mary checked her phone again, frowning as she noticed both the time and the lack of a text message or call from Matthew. Placing her phone on the table, she walked over to the window and peeked through the net curtain to check whether her boyfriend was perhaps just arriving. She sighed when she saw that the road was completely clear.

Robert and Cora had gotten into the habit of holding proper 'family' dinners every week, to prevent their respective busy lives driving them apart; to their daughters' collective surprise, they'd decided that Matthew, and even Tom, should be invited to these dinners. On occasions, the young men had been unable to attend, due to work or other commitments, or purely because they felt uncomfortable eating from the Crawleys every single week. This was one such week for Tom, as he had a new baby cousin to visit in Dublin, but Matthew had confirmed that morning that he would be attending. While we wasn't late for dinner itself, he usually arrived at the house at least thirty minutes before dinner to spend some alone time with Mary.

Hearing footsteps approaching the house, Mary hurried to open the front door. It revealed her usually handsome, impeccably put-together boyfriend looking rather…different. His hair was dishevelled (granted, it was always difficult to tame completely, but this was worse than usual) and slightly greasy. His tie had been hastily loosened and his shirt was untucked with the top two buttons undone. His skin was an unhealthy colour, and his weary smile only just reached his blood-shot eyes.

"Hi." He greeted. His voice sounded strange, Mary noted along with everything else.

"Are you OK?" She asked, although the answer was obvious. She watched as Matthew slowly made his way into the living room, his feet dragging.

"Yeah fine." Matthew said nonchalantly, but his words were contradicted by him dabbing at his brow with the back of his hand as he spoke.

"Why are you sweating? It's cold!" Mary remarked, also wondering why Matthew had been holding his blazer rather than wearing it, considering it had been unseasonably chilly all day.

"Cold?" Matthew asked incredulously. His louder voice enabled Mary to detect that he sounded very bunged-up. "It's been boiling all day!"

As Mary began pointing out that it was actually the coldest August day for a century, Edith entered the room.

"Matthew! How are you?" She greeted genially, a sincere smile on her face. Matthew had taken a liking to Edith, despite his girlfriend's insistence on all of Edith's faults, and she greatly appreciated the support and friendship.

"Good thanks, how are you?" Matthew smiled back and stepped towards her for a hug. Edith got a nasty surprise, however, when Matthew sneezed all over her rather violently. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." Matthew apologised in between loud sniffs, patting her arms as if to brush away the germs. "I just didn't see that coming-" Matthew began explaining, but he was interrupted by another sneeze, somehow even more explosive and startling than the last one, causing both girls to jump back. Mary and Edith looked on, the former with a look of concern and the latter with a look of disgust, as Matthew reached into his pocket for a tissue.

"Matthew, you're not well." Mary stated. "How long have you been like this?" Tentatively, she reached an arm out to gently stroke Matthew's arm as he blew his nose, wary that he may erupt again.

"I'm fine." Matthew replied, his words barely discernible as his face was buried in several tissues. "It must be hayfever or something." He explained, turning back to Edith.

Mary could tell that he was going to change the topic to evade further questioning. "The pollen count today is the lowest it's been all summer." She challenged, her eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I forgot today was your first day at the BBC weather centre." Matthew said sarcastically, growing irritated at her contradictions.

"It…_does _seem like you might have the flu." Edith interjected carefully. She didn't often involve herself with Mary and Matthew's bickering, because it was usually a little game between the two of them, but this time she felt Matthew needed to be persuaded. "You appear to have all the symptoms."

Matthew turned back to Edith, with an expression that read '_et tu, Edith_?' "I'm fine." He reiterated, reaching for his blazer which he'd just laid down on the sofa. The temperature in the room had suddenly plunged, it seemed. "Is the air conditioning on?" He asked, looking up to check for vents.

Mary and Edith glanced at each other worriedly as they noticed Matthew shivering and wrapping himself up in his blazer. "Darling, you need to rest." Mary said gently but firmly, her dainty hands rubbing over his broad shoulders and back to warm him up. "You're not well." She repeated. "Let me feel your forehead." She moved to check his temperature but Matthew dodged out of the way.

"No, Mary!" He stepped away hurriedly, ignoring the fact that the room spun slightly as he ducked his head. "Seriously, it's fine. I've had a busy week at work so far, it's probably just stress." He said unconvincingly.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. "Alright." She said nonchalantly, earning a confused look from her sister. Mary never backed down this easily, especially not when she was so blatantly correct in her assertions. Matthew was also taken aback by this sudden concession, and watched curiously as Mary picked up her phone and fiddled with it for a few seconds. "If you're really not ill then this won't bother you." She held her phone out, directing it towards Matthew and Edith, who both turned their heads away immediately, shielding their eyes.

"Argh!" Matthew groaned. Mary had activated the incredibly strong torch-light on her phone. While it was bright enough to make anybody instinctively divert their gaze away from it, it was possible to look at it after their eyes adjusted to the light. Consequently, Edith turned her head back after a moment. Matthew, on the other hand, was practically bent in two, his hands still covering his face. "My eyes!" He complained, massaging them gently.

"Do they hurt?" Mary enquired as she observed his behaviour.

"Yes– very much, actually!" Matthew replied rather bitterly. He was quite cross that a super-bright light had just been shone directly into his eyes with no warning. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"To prove to you that you do have the flu." Mary explained, patting his shoulder and kissing it caringly. She felt bad that she'd caused him discomfort, but, as always, she was willing to do whatever it took to make her point. "Aversion to bright light." She clarified.

"I think anybody would have an aversion to that eye-pulveriser!" Matthew shot back. He was standing straight again now, just occasionally touching his eyes, which were evidently still uncomfortable.

"Edith recovered after about two seconds." Mary countered, and Matthew barely contained his glare at the sister who had betrayed him twice this evening. Maybe Mary was right about her…

Sighing resignedly, he decided that perhaps he _should_ go home. "I've got a hectic day tomorrow. Maybe I should get an early night so I'm fit for tomorrow." He suggested, still not wanting to admit out loud that he had the flu.

"That sounds like a good idea." Mary nodded, smiling inwardly at his stubbornness which reflected her own. "I'll let my parents know."

"Will they mind?" Matthew asked, his brow furrowed. He was always cautious of doing something which might offend Robert or Cora.

"Of course not." Edith reassured.

"I think they'd much rather you were at home sleeping than at the dinner table sneezing into our lasagne." Mary said, stifling her laughter.

…

The next morning was a Friday morning, but Mary was spending it at home rather than at work. It was her friend's twenty-fifth birthday that weekend, and said friend had organised a weekend away with Mary and two others for a girls' trip to Barcelona. Having visited the city a few times before, Mary wasn't bursting with excitement, but she had been looking forward to an extended weekend away from England's dreary summer.

She was in the process of trying to zip up her travel bag when her phone rang. Curiously, it was Matthew calling. He hardly ever called from work unless it was during his short lunch-breaks or he had a quick moment to spare. Being in the closing stages of a large corporate acquisition deal, however, meant that this week was intensely busy for him, and Mary wondered what he had to tell her.

"Hello?" She answered questioningly. There was a moment's pause before she heard some spluttering on the other end of the line.

"I'm sick." Came Matthew's poorly and pathetic sounding voice.

"Isn't that what I tried telling you?" Mary replied teasingly, although she was still concerned– he sounded even worse than he did the previous night!

"I don't know how it happened." Matthew began, breezing over Mary's smugness at being right yet again. "I felt fine on Wednesday."

"These things come on quite suddenly sometimes." Mary said sympathetically. "Did you call in sick?"

"Actually…" Despite the hoarseness of his voice, Mary could detect a hint of sheepishness in his tone. "They called me early this morning, as I was getting ready, and told me to stay home. Apparently one of the guys in yesterday's meeting told my supervisor that I could infect the whole department if I was allowed back in to the office."

Mary would have laughed if Matthew's explanation hadn't ended with a coughing fit. _That explains the hoarse voice_, Mary thought. Her poor darling was so unwell!

"Anyway," Matthew continued once he'd recovered, "what time is your flight? It's soon isn't-" The end of the sentence was cut off by sneezing.

"Do you want me to come and see you? I'll bring you food." Mary offered, her brow creased with worry.

"No, no." Matthew protested, still coughing occasionally. "I'll be alright, I'm not hungry anyway."

"You need to eat." Mary replied firmly. Whenever she fell ill, she had her parents, her sisters and the housekeeper to look after her, and as much as she feigned annoyance and tried to remain independent, she did need the pampering. But Matthew was all alone in his flat, with nobody there to help him, most likely making himself sicker by worrying about the work he was missing out on.

She glanced at her watch. The flight was in a few hours- she wouldn't have time to visit Matthew's flat _and_ travel to the airport in time. But it was an easy decision in her mind- her priority was Matthew.

"I'll be there in about an hour." Mary said assertively. Anticipating more resistance, she continued talking so as to pre-empt him. "I'll pick up some food and medicine on the way. I'll drive over, so we can go to the doctor's if you need to. Which, by the sounds of it, you do." And before Matthew was able to utter a sound in response, she hung up.

…

Matthew watched his girlfriend with a fond smile as she pulled out item after item from her many bags of groceries, explaining each one in turn.

"I brought some vitamin C tablets too, just in case the oranges don't give you enough…oh and here are some throat lozenges- I wasn't sure what flavour you'd like so I got five different kinds…"

"Mary," Matthew began softly, "you really didn't need to do all this. If I sleep and drink plenty of water then I'll be as good as new tomorrow." He badly wanted to hug her tightly and kiss her for being so sweet, but he knew he couldn't. The risk of spreading germs was high enough as it was, being in the same room together!

Mary paused as she held up yet another carton of fresh soup and raised an eyebrow. "That didn't seem to work very well last night, did it?" She remarked, and continued packing away her shopping while Matthew rested against the kitchen counter, his body aching.

"So what time is your flight?" Matthew asked, realising he still didn't know.

"I'm not going." Mary replied dismissively.

Matthew looked up sharply, then cursed himself for doing so as the room began to spin again. "What do you mean?" Mary didn't respond. "You're not staying behind because of me, are you?" He asked almost accusatorily.

"I've been to Barcelona four times in the last seven years. I don't need to go again." Mary explained, although Matthew knew her well enough to know that she was hiding the real reason behind her decision. "Plus, those other girls that Clara invited are so unbearably thick, I'm sure I'd end up punching one of them in the face if I went." She declared, removing the packaging from the new thermometer she'd bought.

"Mary…" Matthew said, almost reverently. Buried beneath her haughty exterior was one of the most caring, loving hearts he'd ever encountered. He _knew_ that she was forgoing the holiday in order to look after him. He didn't deserve her. The idea of Mary abandoning a sunny weekend away in favour of being stuck inside Matthew's small flat, caring for him like a patient, made him feel terribly guilty. "You know, my mum said she'd try to leave work early today to visit me, so you genuinely don't need to be here."

"Oh!" Mary exclaimed, and rushed over to fetch Matthew's phone from the coffee table. "Call her now and tell her not to. She can't leave a bunch of pregnant women to deal with labour on their own!" Matthew's light chuckle descended into more coughs and splutters, and Mary rubbed his arm comfortingly as she handed him the phone. "I'm here." She stated. "And I'm going to _stay_ here until you're better."

Matthew smiled at her lovingly before calling his mother. Mary listened as he explained to Isobel, a woman she had yet to meet, that her visit was unnecessary because he now had a 'gorgeous nurse' to care for him, prompting an eye-roll and a blush from Mary.

"She said to thank you, and for us to let her know if we need anything." Matthew informed her as he disconnected the call.

"How are you feeling?" Mary gently placed her palms on Matthew's forehead and cheek. He was very warm. While it was naturally upsetting to see people who were unwell, Mary was surprised that it pained her this much to see someone suffering from a sickness which was nothing more serious than the common flu. She stroked her hands over his cheeks and into his hair soothingly.

Matthew gazed at her adoringly. He loved her for sacrificing her holiday, for putting herself at risk of catching the flu by insisting on staying with him in his flat. "Much better now that you're here." He replied with a sincere smile.

…

Against Matthew's wishes, Mary had taken him to visit his GP that morning itself. Thankfully, Dr Parker confirmed that the illness was nothing serious, and all that was required was rest, relaxation, and plenty of fluids. Mary had taken this bog-standard advice very seriously, refusing to let Matthew lift a finger (although she did let him visit the bathroom on his own). She ensured that his lunch was prepared and fully eaten before she gave any thought to her own, she dashed out to one of the local shops to buy him a new pair of woolly socks when he felt cold again and realised all of his socks were too thin or falling apart, and she kept a record of his temperature at hourly intervals.

Reluctantly, Mary agreed to put her nursing duties on hold and sat down to watch a film with Matthew, who was yearning for some normal company and wanted to see her relax. Persistent questions about how he was feeling soon followed, however, and Matthew had to engage his version of the Mary-Crawley-eyebrow-raise (which he'd almost perfected) in order to get her to keep quiet and focus on the television. Matthew could still feel her gaze shifting towards him every few minutes, checking whether his glass of warm water had finished and whether his blanket had slipped from his lap.

Just as the end credits were rolling, Matthew's phone rang. "It's my mum." Matthew said as he glanced at the phone (which Mary had retrieved for him, of course).

"Speak to her, I'll be in the bedroom." Mary said, kissing Matthew's hair as she left the room- it saddened both of them that they couldn't be affectionate with each other, having to sit apart on the sofa and unable to properly kiss.

"Hi, Mum." Matthew answered, feeling blessed to have two such wonderful women doting on him.

"How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?" Isobel wasted no time with unnecessary greetings.

"It's just the flu, nothing serious." Matthew explained, smiling at his mother's urgent tone. "I actually feel better already- my throat doesn't hurt so much and the temperature fluctuations have subsided a bit."

"I'm glad to hear it, dear. Hopefully you'll be fit for work by Monday." Isobel said happily. It was distressing to have her cherished son be ill and not look after him, as she'd always done. She'd even visited him at university a couple of times when he'd succumbed to tonsillitis, much to Matthew's embarrassment and his friends' amusement.

"That's what I said!" Matthew exclaimed. "But Mary almost bit my head off. She said I shouldn't even be thinking about work until my temperature completely stabilises and I am able to go five hours without either coughing or sneezing. Isn't that ridiculous?" He asked exasperatedly, hoping his mother would take his side.

Isobel laughed down the line. "She sounds rather strict, but I think that's probably a good attitude to have. Better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, I'll come and stay with you tomorrow." She stated.

"Oh…Mum, that's alright." Matthew said; he didn't want to make her feel unwanted, but he knew that Mary would never leave him while he was still unwell, and he certainly couldn't handle _both_ of them constantly fussing over him. In any case, it was quite enjoyable to have a nurse as beautiful and lovely as Mary…

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked, and Matthew winced at the tone of her voice- it was bordering on outrage. Even while he'd been with Lavinia and caught norovirus, Isobel had been the one to tend to him.

"Well…Mary's doing a great job." Matthew began cautiously. "And I know you're busy with that children's hospice on Saturdays." He added, hoping that talk of her other duties would persuade her.

"Yes, but-" Isobel began, obviously undeterred in her determination to look after her only son.

"Mum," Matthew interrupted, "I'm in good hands. Really." And he proceeded to describe Mary's tenderness and concern for him, the month's supply of food she'd bought for the weekend, the trip to the doctor's where she made sure he wasn't seated near any other patients in the waiting room, the numerous hot water bottles she'd prepared, how she'd fanned him with her copy of Vogue when his temperature rose. He'd considered mentioning the back and leg massage she'd given him when his body ached, but decided it might be rather awkward to explain to his mother.

"Oh…" Isobel said softly when Matthew had finished. "It sounds like I've been replaced!" She chuckled, but the disappointment in her voice was clear.

"No, Mum." Matthew reassured. "Of course you've not been replaced- you're my mother! It's just-"

"You're a grown man." Isobel stated. "And you shouldn't have your mother running behind you every time you sniffle or scrape your knee." It wasn't the nicest realisation, but Isobel now saw that her boy was somewhat out of her hands. He'd lived independently from her for many years now, and was self-sufficient, but her mothering instincts still took over every now and then. It was time to stop that, however.

Matthew sighed. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Mum."

"I know." Isobel smiled fondly at the gentleness of her son. "But, from what you've told me, Mary is quite a girlfriend."

"She is." Matthew replied, and Isobel could sense his wide grin in his voice.

"Then I have nothing to worry about." Isobel said with a smile and a tear in her eye.

…

"Mary?" Matthew asked as he entered the bedroom. During his conversation with his mother, he'd heard Mary's footsteps travelling up and down the flat, and he wondered what she'd been up to. Not seeing her in the room, he decided to try the kitchen. He halted, however, when he heard a muffled reply from the region of his bed.

"Yes?" He heard Mary's voice say, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" Matthew questioned curiously, walking further into the room. He burst out laughing when a disgruntled Mary removed herself from inside his duvet cover, her hair messy and her expression irritated. "Are you trying to do my bedding?"

"I don't know how on earth people manage to put duvet covers on properly. I've tried doing it in about ten different ways and it's still bunched up." She frustratedly thumped her fists down on the lumpy quilt.

"I'm not sure if physically crawling into the cover was the best way to approach it." Matthew smiled teasingly. "Why are you changing my bedding, anyway?"

"It appears that you were rather sweaty last night, and I thought you might feel more comfortable in a fresh set of linen." She gestured to the new pillow-cases and bedsheet.

"Oh, darling." Matthew gazed at her appreciatively. "Where did you put the old linen?"

"It's in the washing machine." Mary replied, still wrestling with the quilt. She was gaining a new-found respect for her housekeeper, who'd always managed to arrange her bed immaculately.

Matthew's eyebrows shot up. "You did laundry?!" He grew anxious over what state his bedding would be in once the cycle finished…but more importantly, what state would his washing machine be in?

…

"Are you comfortable?" Mary asked again, reaching behind Matthew's head to fluff his pillow as he lay in bed.

"Mary, I'm fine." Matthew said drearily, tired from the illness but also from the incessant questions. "Will you please just go to sleep?" After much debating, Matthew had eventually convinced Mary to go back home and sleep in her own bed; staying in his bed would almost certainly result in her catching the flu too, and he categorically refused to let her sleep on the sofa, as she'd suggested.

"Alright." Mary conceded. "I've put a flask of warm water here." She pointed to the Thermos on his bedside table. "And some lozenges and two boxes of tissues. Call me if you need anything?"

"I will." Matthew said to appease her, although there was no way he'd bother her in the middle of the night.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning then. Sleep well, darling." She kissed his forehead sweetly.

"Mary." Matthew took hold of her hand to stop her as she turned to leave.

"What is it?" Mary frowned, worrying that he'd had a turn.

"Thank you." He smiled up at her. "I just realised I haven't thanked you yet. You're wonderful." He said lovingly, rubbing his thumb over her soft hand.

"I'm not." Mary said bashfully, blushing at how adoring Matthew's gaze was.

"You are." Matthew said firmly, placing several kisses on the back of her hand.

Mary merely smiled down at him, humbled by his attentions. She squeezed his hand warmly and left the room.

Matthew slept very well that night, and his symptoms had completely abated by Sunday evening, when Matthew took the opportunity to show Mary, through non-verbal means, just how thankful he was to have her.

…

_A/N: for everyone who's been asking about Unwanted Rings and Behaving in the Workplace, I'm so sorry I've been so slow with updates! I'm in that annoying place where it's all planned out and partially written, but nothing seems to be completing itself! Hopefully it won't take too long…sorry again! Please bear with me _

_As always, let me know your thoughts! xxx_


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